


A Cry for Help

by reigningqueenofwords



Series: Gonna Marry That Boy [8]
Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead AU - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords





	A Cry for Help

* * *

It had been an hour. An hour of yelling. Running a hand through your hair, you were pacing your room. You couldn’t take much more of this. Hell, you didn’t even know what they were yelling about at this point. You didn’t even care.

You couldn’t even run off to Carl’s. Not because of the two of you being forced to break up, but because they weren’t there. You knew that every year, for a week in August, Rick, Carl, Shane, and a couple other buddies went out camping.

“Fuck this.” You grabbed your phone and looked through your contacts list. Finding the name you were looking for, you hit dial.

After a few rings, you heard the gravelly southern accent on the other end. _“Hello?”_ He answered.

You chewed your lip for a moment as you heard a door slam and your father’s bike rev to life. “This is Y/N. Uh, you might not rememb–”

 _“Carl’s girl?”_ He asked. _“Yeah, I remember you. Everything okay, kiddo?”  
_

Sighing, you sat on your bed. “No, not really. I’m sorry for calling… I-I just didn’t know who else to…” You told him, suddenly feeling like an ass. You’d only met him a handful of times, but Rick gave you his number. He told you he was someone that you could trust, and if you couldn’t get ahold of him, this was who to call. “I just need someone to talk to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’l–”

He sighed. _“You need someone to talk to, I’m here.”_ He told you. _“I ain’t about to let you off the line when you sound like this. You home?”_

“Yeah, but that’s part of the problem. Can you pick me up?” You asked nervously.

_“Yeah, I can do that. Text me your address, and I’ll be there in ten, kiddo.”_

You smiled softly and agreed before the two of you hung up and you texted him. Looking down, you decided it was probably time to actually get dressed. You pulled on a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a hoodie.

After you pulled on some sneakers, you quickly moved downstairs. “Where are you going, young lady?” Your mother asked as you reached the door.

Glancing over your shoulder, you shrugged. “Out…”

“You mean you don’t tell your father where you’re going?” She asked, her tone perfectly clear on what she was indicating.

“No. I don’t.” Which was only half true. “I don’t have to. For one, everyone knows I’m Negan’s kid, and that if anyone fucks with me, the Saviors would be on their asses. And, secondly, you aren’t exactly in the position to stand there and question his parenting, Y/M/N.” You shot back before storming out, slamming the door.

She was right behind you, livid. “Y/N! Don’t you dare walk away from me!” She yelled after you.

Just then, you heard the rumble of an unfamiliar bike. “I’m not. I’m riding away.” You smirked, and she couldn’t help but think how much like your father’s it was. You climbed on the back of the bike after you were handed a helmet, and wrapped your arms around his waist.

* * *

Your mother was still outside when Negan pulled back up, making him clench his jaw. “What the fuck are you still doing here?!” He asked. “I’d like to have a decent day with my daughter without you here.” 

“Good luck with that.” She told him. “She left about twenty minutes ago.”

“Where to?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Got on the back of some guy’s bike. It wasn’t one of your men, looked like some country hick.”

He glared. “And you didn’t think to fucking stop her?” Negan went past her, into the house. He heard her following him and turned on his heel. “You saw some country lookin’ guy picking up my fuckin’ kid, and didn’t think that it was odd?”

“She seemed to know him! I knew he wasn’t one of yours, but she knows him…plus a bike…Guess what that leads me to believe? YOU KNOW HIM!”

“Obviously not!”

* * *

It didn’t take long for him to pull off into the parking lot to the park. He’d brought you to an area where there were pavilions with picnic benches under them. You got off the back of the bike and followed him to one. He sat on the table top, feet on the seat. You were pacing in front of him in the grass as he lit himself a cigarette. “So, what’s the issue, kiddo?”

You shot him a look. “Stop fucking calling me that.”

He held up his hands. “Didn’t seem to have a problem with it on the phone.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.” You let your hair down and started to play with the ends- a nervous habit of yours. “Okay, first, let me start off by saying that I’m sorry if my dad or his men show up. I will take full responsibility.” You told him.

“I don’t care what your old man thinks.” He smirked, taking a drag. “Now, what the hell is so bad that you’re callin’ me?”

Taking a deep breath, you thought of how to start. “You know all about me and Carl, so I don’t even have to get into all that. Well, I was his prom date.”

He let out a laugh. “Boy, did I hear about that one!” He grinned. “Little lady can party, it seems.”

“Yeah, well, little lady fucked up.” His laughter died down. “I woke up the next day to my dad telling me we were spring cleaning, and that Rick and Carl were coming over that night for dinner. It turns out it’s because that was the last straw. No more seeing each other. Period. Figured he’s going off to college anyway, who cares about some dumb teenage girl?”

“You ain’t dumb.” He told you, sounding annoyed that you’d think that.

“Daryl, you barely know me.” You told him.

He shrugged. “From what I’ve seen, and what I’ve been told…you got a good head on your shoulders. Better than most. Now, keep talkin’.”

“I was miserable. Obviously. I saw no point in really trying anymore. I knew that I’d never really have a life until I left for college. I’m Negan’s daughter. As much as I love him, and the guys are mostly pretty great…it makes it fucking hard.” You felt bad saying it out loud. “It’s never ‘hi, Y/N’, it’s ‘hey, aren’t you Negan’s daughter?’. I don’t have my own identity. I’m in his fuckin’ shadow.”

“Sounds like you’ve been holding that in.”

You nodded. “He tries so hard. He is a good dad, he’s just a hard ass at times. I mean, the man let me paint his nails until I was like 10 or something.” His eyebrows went up. “Yeah, see? I wound up just lounging around the house a lot, or reading. Then I started to get more tired, figured it was just me being bored. So, I started to nap, too.” He flicked his cigarette butt off to the side and exhaled, letting you continue. “I got really snippy with him for stupid things, and wasn’t really interested in food…which says something. I love food. I wouldn’t go near some things that I love.”

“Okay?” Daryl shrugged. “People’s tastes change all the time.” It wasn’t a big deal to him.

Stopping in front of him, he finally saw the tears that had been running down your cheeks. You let out a small sob before you said anything else. “I’m pregnant, Daryl.” He barely heard you but didn’t dare ask you to repeat yourself. “My dad is going to fucking kill me!”

He got off the table and pulled you into a hug. An awkward one, but a hug nonetheless. “When did it happen?”

“Fucking prom night.” You shook your head. 


End file.
